


Cross Check

by Maygra



Series: Penalty [3]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: ATF, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-19
Updated: 2002-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maygra/pseuds/Maygra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kisses and many kudos to letters AuK, J and Z for killing the bad commas, and patching the splices. No hockey players were harmed in the production of this story.</p></blockquote>





	Cross Check

# Cross Check

  
**by Maygra**  
Ratings: NC17, slash  
Universe: ATF  
Pairings: Chris/Vin

 

He should have listened to Vin. The sofa was deep and supple, worn leather cool on his skin and butter soft, great for sprawling on to watch a game, settling back into to read the paper and comfortable and washable enough to make love on when the mood struck.

It was not, however, an ideal support when every muscle in his body felt like they'd detached from his bones and retracted to his spine like an old pull down blind suddenly snapping up and tight.

It took a few minutes of resolve and a firm grip on the back of the sofa and the cushion to get himself upright and he was groaning like an old man when he finally managed to sit up and get his feet on the floor. He had high hopes that the hot water heater had managed to store up enough hot water for another shower. The Jacuzzi on the deck was a possibility too, save Chris wasn't sure he could get out of it once he climbed in.

"Hurts, don't it?"

Chris twisted his head around, or tried. Bad idea. "Yes. Which makes you entirely too happy, Nate. I'm starting to worry about you."

Nathan's chuckle was unoffended as he came around the front of the sofa. "Told you to call me if you needed help. I'm not here to do your dishes."

"I didn't think I needed help," Chris lied. "Did you do the dishes?"

 

"Nope. Vin did 'em before he left. I made some sandwiches though. You up to eating something?"

He could. Breakfast had been hours ago and he'd fallen asleep shortly afterwards, not waking up until Nathan arrived and Vin headed into the office. Then he'd gone back to sleep. "Yeah. Give me a hand and I'll get up."

Nathan gripped his hand and upper arm, strength easily applied and Chris hardly had to work at all to get on his feet. He didn't jerk away either, letting Nathan continue to steady him until he nodded. "Room's stopped spinning."

The dark brown eyes narrowed a bit. "You been feeling dizzy?"

"Only when I stand up after lying down," Chris said.

"Headache?"

Dull ache but not a screamer. "Not really. I'm all right. I thought you were feeding me."

"As opposed to kicking your skinny white ass?" Nathan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't you start."

Nathan grunted and dropped his hands. "Yell out if you decide to take up carpet diving."

Smart ass, Chris thought but he followed Nathan and while his muscles loosened a little as he walked, he felt the twinge in his knee and in his side.

Nathan was laying a plate down with a sandwich when Chris reached the kitchen, settling down across from Chris to finish his own meal. Chris glanced at the clock on the stove and then out the window, seeing the lengthening shadows.

"Vin call?" he asked taking his first bite: a small one. His jaw was still sore too.

Nathan shook his head. "Nope. You expect him to?"

"Later than I thought," Chris said.

"Probably finishing up his reports."

Pretty likely explanation and maybe Vin just needed some time away. He'd had gotten little or no sleep, and while his temper had cooled some, Chris couldn't blame him for wanting some space. Maybe he needed some too.

He wasn't used to Vin cutting loose like that. Not that he'd never seen Vin angry, but Chris couldn't remember a time when it had been solely aimed at him. Or seen Vin so caught up in fear that he lashed out. In truth, there were very few things that Chris knew of that scared Vin at all.

The sandwich suddenly tasted dry in his mouth and he swallowed, reaching for the water Nathan had poured for him.

"Chris, you in pain?" Nathan asked, the concern in his voice, on his face, very real and very sudden. It wasn't just a passing interest in whether he ached. Chris could only wonder what was on his face to elicit such anxiety.

Chris took another sip of water. "No...Vin said...it was close."

Nathan studied him, and then sat back a little. "The shot? It was. Coming back?"

"A little. I was pretty out of it."

Nathan smiled a little bit and relaxed. "I noticed. How'd they make you, Chris?"

Chris looked up, saw less concern than curiosity on Nathan's face and felt steadier. "Kress. Recognized me, just couldn't remember from where."

"Where'd you know him from?"

"Denver PD...has to be...ten years ago. Maybe more. Early bust. Grand theft auto. He was a kid."

"You and Buck weren't much more than that."

Chris let a flicker of a smile cross his face and leaned back as well, carefully. He wasn't hungry any longer. "You're a tactful man, Agent Jackson."

Nathan chuckled. "Step above GTA, gun running."

"You could look it that way, I suppose. How did you find us?"

It was Nathan's turn to look uncomfortable. "Vin and Buck persuaded Paulsen to give us a location."

"Vin *and* Buck?" Chris asked and glanced at the clock again.

Nathan picked up his sandwich.

"I'm gonna find out," Chris warned.

Nathan bit into the bread and nodded. "Yup. You will. But maybe you ought to talk to Vin or Buck."

"Maybe you should save them the trouble," Chris said flatly. "What did they do?"

"Depends," Nathan said, cautiously.

"Depends on what?"

"On whether this is going to be my last meal if I tell you," Nathan said.

Chris didn't miss the sarcasm, or the humor. "Might be if you don't."

"In that case, I need a beer -- and no, you don't get one," he warned, getting up to grab a long neck out of the refrigerator. He opened it without saying anything more and Chris tried a different tact in prodding Nathan to talk.

"Aren't you on duty?"

"Nope. Believe it or not, the US government does not pay me to watch over your sorry ass," Nathan said amiably and took a long sip of his beer. Chris' beer. "On my own time...and this...off the record until it becomes part of the record," Nathan said quietly.

Jesus. Chris sat forward, feeling tension creep up his spine. "What happened? Exactly how did Buck and Vin persuade Paulsen?"

"More like....Vin persuaded and Buck looked the other way," Nathan said and slipped into the chair again, then looked up quickly when Chris took a sharp breath. "Not that bad...Vin came off with more bruises than Paulsen. He didn't hurt him. Just scared him a little. It's probably a good thing Paulsen is a chicken shit, though, 'cause ...Vin was pretty riled."

Riled. Oh, there was a good word for it. "So...he didn't actually hurt Paulsen."

"Much," Nathan amended. "But he...he didn't read him his rights before he started and he did...threaten him."

Chris rubbed a hand over his eyes, wincing when he encountered the stitches. "Paulsen's gonna walk, isn't he?"

"Probably."

"And Ackerman and Manson?"

Nathan took another sip of his beer and set it on the table, long fingers working the label. "Possession of illegal weapons. Contributing to the assault on a federal officer -- if they can get it to stick, since you didn't exactly identify yourself. Assault and battery...which you said..."

"They didn't actually do. They didn't stop it, but..."

Nathan was silent for a moment. "You were gone a long time, Chris."

Chris nodded, staring out the window and chewing on his thumbnail.

"Buck was in with Travis at the crack of dawn because Paulsen started screaming even before they got him to the lockup. He was out on bail first thing this morning." Nathan said quietly, leaning forward. "When Buck called here, Vin was still only supposed to be up for the review on the shooting. Then...they called a disciplinary board."

Chris nodded, already pushing himself up, reaching for the kitchen phone. Nathan didn't try and stop him.

He tried Buck first and got no answer. Vin's cell was on messaging only and Travis' secretary would only tell him that the Assistant Director was unavailable.

Chris leaned his shoulder and head against the kitchen wall, staring at pretty much nothing. "We do get to keep the guns, right?"

Nathan smiled briefly. "I don't think Paulsen will be asking for them back."

"I'm going to take another shower," Chris said and glanced at Nathan. "I'll yell if I need help."

He managed to get the bandages off without help this time, although he'd probably have to ask Nathan to rewrap them. The water felt as good as it had earlier in the day, but he missed Vin's hands.

His hands. Bruised and scraped, bloodied, and still steady enough to take out Kress at God knew how many yards away. Washing over his skin and rubbing out aches.

Shaking when he'd finally come to make sure Chris was all right after putting Kress down.

The water was starting to cool and he turned it off, drying off slowly.

He left the Ace wrap on the bathroom counter, trading sweats for jeans and a button-down flannel shirt. Getting a T-shirt on over his head would cost more than the effort was worth. More antibiotic cream on his wrists and he managed a rough shave with the electric razor he hadn't used in three years but had never tossed.

Bending over to put on his boots was more than he could stand as well, but he had a pair of soft loafers and he could do without the socks.

Nathan looked up from doing his cleanup when Chris came in the kitchen.

"You said, yell if I needed help. I need you to drive me to the office. And if you don't, Nate, I will drive myself."

"Vin took your truck," Nathan said, a stubborn set to his mouth, "and you have a concussion."

"Then you'd better drive or I'll take his jeep," Chris said.

"Chris, you'll get your chance--"

Chris didn't argue with him, just left the kitchen and headed to the front door, hunting for Vin's spare keys and pulling his jacket off the peg.

"Chris, by the time you get there, they'll be done. And you will get your chance--"

"Travis should have called me. *Buck* should have told me." Or Vin, but Chris didn't say it. They'd spent months on this case and it was gone, or most likely gone, and while he might have totally fucked up the op, he'd be damned if he was going to let his team, his friends, be hung out to dry for it. Because Buck would take the hit too, for being Senior Agent in Charge since Chris had so thoroughly and completely abdicated that position.

Nathan planted himself firmly in front of Chris, the set of his jaw and the serious gaze a pretty good indication that he wasn't above other forms of persuasion if reason wouldn't work. "You goin' on down there to take the blame for it isn't gonna to make it any easier. Not for any of us," he snapped. "And it's not going to change what's done."

"It shouldn't have happened--"

"No," Nathan said shaking his head. "It shouldn't have. But it did. And if Kress hadn't made you, it might have worked out. We all know that, Chris. Even Vin knows that," he said more quietly. "So you can go there...and you can pick up your reprimand and Travis'll want you to tell him what happened, what you were thinking, and still send you back home again to heal up...."

What had he been thinking? It had seemed reasonable at the time. Get a line on the location, call it back, have the team get all of it in one shot, instead of setting up yet another meet. That had been the plan. His plan. The one he hadn't shared with the rest of his team.

The sound of crunching gravel brought his head up, and he barely felt Nathan pluck the keys from his hand as he pushed the front door open to see his own truck pull up next to Vin's jeep and, behind Nathan's car, Buck's big Dodge.

Vin looked more tired than anything, the slacks and shirt he'd put on a little rumpled and his tie long gone. Buck looked crisper and smiled broadly to see Chris up and around. "You look like a few miles of bad road, pard," he said, working his way around the assorted vehicles in the drive. "Passable but rough. How are you feeling?"

"Sore. Stiff." He glanced at Vin, who had paused on the top step, leaning against the porch post. "Stupid."

Vin gave him a flicker of a smile. "Lot of that going around," he said and stepped up to pat Chris' stomach gently. Chris caught his arm before he could go inside.

"Did we lose Paulsen?"

Vin's fingers dug lightly into the loose cloth of Chris' shirt, but he looked at Nathan first, who shrugged and nodded.

"Yeah," Vin said, voice quiet but tight. "He'll walk."

"Ackerman and Manson will be staying with us, though," Buck said, leaning against the front bumper of Chris' truck where it was parked close to the porch.

"The rest of it, Buck," Chris said, covering Vin's arm with his hand to keep him close. Vin shifted a little to the left, facing Buck, and his other hand rested on Chris' hip. Support, Chris noted idly, feeling a sinking in his heart that Vin felt he'd need it. Beside them, Nathan leaned on the porch post Vin had vacated.

Buck was uncharacteristically serious. "Well, Orrin's none too happy with us. We're off Paulsen entirely. Someone else will be picking him up, soon enough. Junior, there..." Buck folded his arms over his chest. "Two weeks, no pay, and he and I get to do a little refresher on the proper way to arrest a suspect. Reprimands in our files. I got the same, but it's been...postponed effective when you get back to work."

"And that is when?" Chris asked squeezing Vin's arm. Bad enough, but he hadn't been suspended, pending dismissal. He could have been. There were other reprimands in Vin's files, procedural ones that Chris had fought against and lost.

"Soon as the doctors clear you. Couple of days."

"And?" Chris asked.

"That's it," Buck said quietly, meeting Chris' eyes, watching him and not flinching when Chris felt the heat of anger rise in his face.

"I'll talk to Travis."

"No," Buck said sharply, taking a step up so he was eye level with Chris. "You leave it, Chris," he said, unfolding his arms. "He went to the wall for us: for Vin, for me. Even for you. You'll get a black mark in your file for acting like an ass. You'll get a couple weeks to stare at that office and think on why there's only five of us there. And then we'll pick up where we left off. And that's directly from Travis. You call him and he'll tell you the same thing, only not as politely." Buck never raised his voice, but he was firm, and hidden under the calm of his blue eyes, there was anger there too.

"Leave it, Chris," Vin echoed softly, and Nathan met his gaze steadily for a moment before dropping his gaze.

Buck reached into his jacket pocket and held out an envelope. "Orders and the decision. Review board results. When you get back, you have an appointment with Travis and then one with McCall."

Chris took the envelope and met Buck's gaze again. There was a softening there and Chris swallowed. "Should be me..." he said quietly. His fault, and he knew it and wasn't one to not take responsibility for his actions, for his own stupidity. Travis knew it too. Bastard.

"He knows you pretty well, Chris," Buck said, gripping his forearm gently. "I gotta get back. We've still got follow up to do. It's good to see you up and around." The smile was back, the eyes warm and relieved. Chris closed his fingers over Buck's arm as well. He hadn't needed to come out here. Vin could have brought him the results and the rest Chris could have heard on the phone.

"I'm sorry...Tell them..."

Buck squeezed his arm again and Vin pressed close, just briefly.

"We know. Prefer not to repeat it but...we'll be okay. So will you, Chris. Give yourself a couple of days. That face of yours is likely to scare the horses," Buck said with a chuckle and Chris grinned, which hurt, but it made Buck laugh louder, easy and no hint of restraint.

"Tell him to put that wrap back on, Vin. And those pills ain't doing him no good in the bottle," Nathan said, stepping down and waving as he headed to his car. "Buck, you're blocking me in."

"Yeah, yeah..." Buck said and finally let go of Chris' arm. "It's done, Chris. Next time, remember, you're the smart one. I'm just the good looking one."

"In a certain light, Buck. In a certain light," Chris said.

Vin moved to his side to watch the two men pull out, Buck laying on the horn as he headed down the drive. When there was nothing but dust to be seen, Vin rubbed along his back. "Doing okay without the bandage?" he asked.

Chris turned around, meeting Vin's eyes, seeing only the question there and, yes, some fatigue. There was no bright hint of anger, though, or even fear. Not at the moment.

"Vin...God, I never meant..."

"Larabee, if I'd thought you'd meant any of this to happen, I wouldn't be here," Vin said quietly.

"You're not even mad about the suspension, are you?"

Vin shook his head. "Not really. Unlike some folks, I actually was thinking about what I was doing. I figure I got off pretty easy." There was no sarcasm or anger accompanying the statement. "You scared the shit out of me, Chris. This..." he shrugged. "This is just annoying. I need a beer."

He slipped his arm around Chris' shoulder, guiding him into the house.

Vin got his beer, and a soda for Chris, settling beside him on the sofa and leaning back with his eyes closed, his long legs stretched out. Chris sat more forward, not quite willing to fight the depths of the couch again. The silence felt heavy but not awkward between them, or Chris thought not, until Vin reached over to rest his hand over the curve of Chris' knee. "Might want to wait until these bruises fade before you start beating yourself up and givin' yourself new ones," he said. "'Sides, that's my job."

"Got your work cut out for you," Chris said, setting the soda can down and taking up Vin's hand, examining the bruises and healing scrapes along his knuckles.

"Naw. You make it pretty easy," Vin said and curled his fingers around Chris'.

"I can't make this right, can I?" Chris asked and Vin squeezed his hand.

"Not really. Best thing...nobody died." Vin said it but it was breathless.

"Kress did."

"Nobody that mattered," Vin said and Chris flinched at the cold surety of that statement. Vin's fingers tightened and he sat up, bringing a knee up on the sofa to face Chris' profile. "You don't get to own that one, Chris."

"You said it: you killed a man because of me," Chris said.

Vin nodded, slowly. "Yeah, I did. Not the first time and probably not the last. But he was the one with the gun to your head and he knew...he had to know somebody was going to die the minute he stepped outside with you in front of him. He could have surrendered."

"He said he wouldn't go back to prison."

"His choice."

Chris tried to let that sink in, to see the reality of it, the truth of it and still know that he'd set it all in motion.

"You're not perfect, Chris," Vin said at last.

The dry, bitter chuckle escaped before Chris could stop it. "Well, I guess that makes you a fucking genius to have figured it out, Tanner," he said and instantly regretted it: this wasn't Vin's fault.

Vin hooked a hand around Chris' outer leg and swung him around a bit so they were nearly facing each other. He looked neither hurt nor angry, when he should be, could be. "Travis really does have you pegged."

"He's not the only one."

Vin let out a raspy cough that almost sounded like laughter. His eyes were definitely laughing. "Well, no one could ever accuse you of hiding your light under a bushel. Aw, jeez, Chris," he said with a sigh, rubbing his hand along Chris' thigh. "Ain't either one of us having one of our best days. I'd do it again though, in a heartbeat. I'm like Buck, though...rather not have to at all. Sitting behind that desk makes you crazy after a while -- you know it and I know it. This could've turned out better. It didn't. Ain't none of us _that_ stupid," he said with a warning glance at Chris.

Chris got the warning and all that was behind it. "No, we aren't."

"Just think how quiet it'll be without me and Buck there. Think of all the paperwork you can get done."

The glint in the blue eyes was back. "You're all heart, Tanner."

Vin shook his head. "Nope, ain't got one. Expect you to take real careful care of it."

Chris covered his hands. "Like it was my own."

Vin rolled his eyes. "Now _that's_* reassuring."

"Smart ass."

Vin gave him a quick grin and patted his thigh before getting up and pulling at the buttons of his dress shirt. "I'm gonna get out of these. You eat something?"

"Nathan made me a sandwich," Chris said.

"'Bout my speed too. Don't forget your pills," he said and headed for the bedroom. Chris watched him and sighed, and wiped the condensation from the side of the can with a fingertip. He wasn't at all sure Vin had regained his equilibrium, but he thought so. Hoped so.

He still ached, but his head felt a lot clearer. Amazing what a little anger and guilt could do for a man. The hard part to accept was that he knew, deep in his gut, that AD Orrin Travis had gone to the wall for his team, for him, and probably owed a lot of people now, too. Even in doing so, he'd known how best to tug the guilt leash and make sure Chris didn't easily forget to toe the line. That as independent and free a rein as Chris had to run his team, he was still lead dog on a sled driven by somebody else. Travis could have asked Chris to step down as SAC for Team 7...except he might have lost more than a SAC.

It was easy to forget that he was at least partly the reason why his team was as successful as they were. That none of them begrudged him the need to sometimes take a more active role in their operations.

Even worse than blowing the operation, he'd almost managed to blow their trust away. And because if it, Vin and Buck, the two people closest to him in the world, got to pay for it most heavily.

Travis knew him entirely too well.

He found the pills on the end table and took two after glancing at the clock. The shower had helped and while he would probably head into the office the day after tomorrow, he wasn't going to forget any of this any time soon. The physical reminders would linger for a few days, then fade. He could only pray the other reminders didn't fade as easily.

Vin hadn't returned and Chris got up. He wasn't hungry and there was no reason he couldn't change into looser clothes as well.

He stopped in the doorway, a frown, then a smile, hovering on his lips. Vin was sprawled at the foot of the bed, legs hanging over at the knees. He'd shed the dress shirt and slacks and gotten as far as pulling his sweat pants on. It took no imagination to know he'd planned to lie back for only a minute.

Thirty-six hours, give or take, with little or no sleep and under stress nearly the entire time; Chris supposed it was lucky Vin hadn't gone down in the middle of his review. He sat on the edge of the bed, Vin waking quickly but sluggishly.

"Maybe you should swing around and just give it up," Chris advised when Vin opened his eyes to look up at him.

"Might not be a bad idea," Vin said but he sat up. "How's your head?"

"Still attached. I'm okay, Vin. Took my pills. You need sleep."

"You want your bandages?"

Chris considered it, ready to say no and then rethought it. "Probably should. They do help."

"Where--?" Vin was already on his feet and Chris fought back the urge to say he'd get them.

"Bathroom."

He unbuttoned his shirt while Vin went to get the Ace wrap, easing the flannel off his shoulders. Vin's hand was there to help pull it down, before crouching once more encircle Chris' chest and sides with the wide elastic. "I'll go check on the horses...get something to eat," Vin said when he was done, standing up almost as stiffly as Chris would.

Chris caught his wrist. "They've got water, right? Hay? It's not that cold ...they'll do okay, Leave 'em out, Vin. Won't be the first time."

Vin hesitated, raking a hand through his hair and then nodded. "Early for you..."

Chris caught his other hand and pulled him between his legs, moving his hands to rest on the slender hips. "I'm not going in tomorrow, so if I get up in the middle of the night...I get up. Vin...this time it really is enough. You need to eat something and get some rest."

Vin's hand drifted up to Chris' shoulder stroking down then back up along his neck and he grinned. "I don't think I resigned from nursemaid duties yet."

"You might want to think on it," Chris said. "Your bedside manner could use some work."

"Guess you'll have to take it up with my boss," Vin said, fingers dancing along the shell of Chris' ear and up into his hair.

"Might at that," Chris said pulling Vin closer and sliding his arms around his thighs until he could rest his cheek against Vin's flat stomach. Vin's hands carded through his hair and along his neck and back, doing no more than that, but Chris could feel the warmth of him, the scent of sweat and soap, denim and whatever fabric softener had been used on Vin's dress shirt, lingering on his skin. It took only a turn of his head to press a kiss to the skin above Vin's hip.

Vin's fingers tightened in his hair, body tensing slightly, but he didn't ask Chris to stop. Another kiss along the left abdominal muscle, then closer to his navel and Vin's breath came out in a stuttering sigh. "Don't start something you can't finish," he said quietly.

"I think I hear an echo in here," Chris muttered and felt Vin's laughter more than heard it, but then Vin's hands framed Chris' jaw, lifting his head. Vin's eyes were dark, cheeks a little flushed.

"I'm thinking this don't fall under the bedrest and light exercise part of your home care instructions," Vin said simply and let his thumb rub over the stitches. Chris flinched a little. The skin was tender.

"You could just say you are too tired."

"Could."

But he wasn't. Chris took a breath and rested his forehead on Vin's stomach. "I'll show some sense. Get some food inside yourself."

Vin caught his face again and bent low, mouth ghosting over Chris', then pressing harder. Chris could feel the reaction in him, the tensing in the long body and the rising heat of his skin. His own body stirred to desire and held: maybe willing but not entirely able either because of the drugs or the bruising.

Sex wasn't the magic wand to set things entirely right between them and he pulled away reluctantly. "Go on."

Vin looked uncertain but Chris waited for him and he nodded finally. "'k. Be back in a few. You don't want anything?"

Chris shook his head and then got up to exchange his jeans for his own sweats. The bed was easier than the sofa and he figured he might sleep again. He pulled out the review summary instead, blinking a couple of times to focus on the type, reading over it with his jaw clenched.

He kept looking at the paper but he wasn't really reading it, listening to Vin moving around in the kitchen, then through the house. Locking up probably.

Vin returned with the beer he hadn't finished and the half sandwich Chris hadn't eaten. Chris made a face when Vin drank the warm beer anyway to wash down the last of the sandwich and set both bottle and plate on the floor next to the bed. "Don't get any better in print," Vin said, pulling the blankets back.

"I'm an optimist," Chris shot back and smiled at the snort he got, but he set the summary aside and moved the blankets on his own side, settling and letting Vin reach across him for the light. Vin tried not to press down on him but the scent of him was strong, the brush of his skin across Chris' shoulder transferring warmth and another wave of desire and the simple need to touch. Chris found his hand on Vin's hip as he fumbled for the light switch, brushing over the hard ridge of bone when Vin's sweats pulled down a bit. He let his hand linger as Vin dropped back to his side, palm rubbing along the skin while Vin settled.

It wasn't full dark yet so the room merely dimmed instead of sinking into darkness. There was a purplish-rose light filtering in through the window, striking the pale grey of the walls and turning them almost a shadow blue. It left Vin's skin looking both darker and oddly tinted by the light. Bruise colored.

Chris tugged at a pillow to make himself more comfortable, but Vin seemed to simply drop, eyes closed, one arm tucked under his head. He didn't try to dislodge Chris' hand.

"You're starin'," he said after a moment and without opening his eyes.

"I am," Chris agreed, grinning when Vin opened his eyes.

"You're the one told me to get some sleep."

"Meant it too."

"Then quit staring."

"Okay," Chris said and closed his eyes, his thumb still stroking over the curve of Vin's waist. Vin was quiet for a long moment. He shifted a little and then sighed.

"You'd be more convincing if you didn't have that shit-eating grin on your face." Vin's tone was wryly exasperated and Chris opened his eyes to see Vin staring back, a half smile dancing over his lips.

He gave a nudge with his hand and Vin shook his head but he rolled onto his back. Chris shifted over, moving carefully but a pillow tucked under his ribs helped. "You'd be more convincing if you didn't give in so easily," Chris teased him, sliding his hand under the loose waistband and kissed Vin's temple when his lover sucked in a sharp breath as Chris' hand slid over his cock. The reaction was quick enough.

But Vin was quick too and pressed his hand over Chris'. "This isn't going to be good for your head...just--"

"Shhh..." Chris whispered. "There's nothing wrong with *your* head...just relax. I actually thought this through."

"You're scaring me..." Vin said, but it was almost lost on another quick breath when Chris' fingers closed around him.

Chris managed to get a little closer, fingers stroking through Vin's hair and mouth brushing over his cheek and jaw until Vin turned his head. No strain at all, really, for him to kiss and stroke, feel Vin move under his hand and then push his sweats down past his hips, lifting one knee to turn slightly toward Chris and cover his hand once more.

Not to stop him this time, though.

There was warmth pooling in Chris' body, low in his groin, but it wasn't much more than that and he honestly didn't care as Vin's breathing grew quick and shallow. Not a magic wand, but magic nonetheless. The skin under his hand grew firmer and more slick, Vin's hips lifting to meet their combined strokes. Chris lifted his head, watching as he worked gently to bring Vin off, increasing his pace when he saw the swipe of Vin's tongue across his lips. The blue eyes were fixed on Chris' until sensation and reaction brought his body up taut and hard, eyes closing as he groaned and twitched, then jerked, spilling come over their hands, on his belly. Chris bent low, capturing sound and breath, letting his hand ride across Vin's hip to hold him until he stopped trembling.

It didn't take much effort to pull a pillowcase free to wipe Vin off, clean off their hands and then toss it across the bed to the floor. The last effort was the only twinge Chris felt as he tugged at Vin's sweats to pull them up again. Vin didn't move much, still breathing shallowly but much more slowly. He lifted his hips to finish pulling the sweats up then rolled to his side, seeking Chris' mouth and tucking his body up to Chris' chest, skin slightly damp.

"You all right?" Vin asked him, barely a whisper.

"I'm good, Vin," Chris whispered back, pressing his lips to Vin's forehead. "How about you?"

"Fishin' for compliments," Vin said, mouth twitching. "Getting there, cowboy." His eyes flickered closed. "You're still on my shit list, though," he said with the ghost of a smile. He settled then, arm across Chris' waist, breathing growing gradually deeper.

Chris listened to him breathe for a while, closing his eyes as the room got darker. "Glad to be there, pard."

 

~end~

03/19/2002

**Author's Note:**

> Kisses and many kudos to letters AuK, J and Z for killing the bad commas, and patching the splices. No hockey players were harmed in the production of this story.


End file.
